The Beauty of Hindsight
by Jax33
Summary: Not bad enough to be a villain and not good enough to be a hero, Draco reflects on the events in his life which lead to his current situation. Alone he remembers a harsh upbringing and a Witch who could always get under his skin like no one else. Post DH.


Where had it all gone wrong? Since the day he was born he'd always had a compass leading him towards being what he always thought he was destined to be – the powerful head of the Malfoy clan, the leading family in the Wizarding world, and the Dark Lords most trusted ally.

One of the earliest memories Draco had was of his eight year-old self being picked up from school by his father. He remembered how strange it was to see Lucius Malfoy standing silently at the gates to collect him, as opposed to the house elf or another servant. He'd fixed his son with the coldest of stares as he waved goodbye to his friend Celia Bucksworth. Upon reaching the entrance his father placed a firm hand on his shoulder, gripping tightly as he lead his son back home.

They walked in complete silence, his father not speaking until the massive oak doors of Malfoy Manor were firmly closed behind them and he lead his son to the study.

'Hands out' he had commanded, his eyes twitching in silent rage, as he began a routine he and Draco had gone through a hundred times before and would go through a hundred times more.

'Please Lucius' his mother had pleaded through stifled tears. 'Not today, not on his birthday.'

'Silence Narcissa. Draco, your hands.'

His mother left the room, Draco hearing a sob escape from the hands clasped across her mouth.

He raised his hands slowly, holding them out in front of himself. He couldn't stop himself shaking, he never would be able to no matter how old he got. He was going to be punished again, he wasn't sure what for but he knew his father would tell him.

'There is no point in a senseless beating' his father would always say. 'One must always understand the actions which lead to this consequence if they are to learn and become stronger.'

This would be one of the many sayings Draco was raised to live his life by.

Today, his crime was to do with his new friend Celia - particular her heritage.

THWAP

Lucius had brought his cane down upon Draco's hands, the sound of cracking bone and a young child's tears filled the air.

He raised his hands again.

'…and imagine my disgust when I am told by your teacher that you have been associating with her kind.'

THWAP

'We have spoken about this before Draco. You are not to mingle with _**Mudbloods**_.'

'I didn't know!' Draco coughed out through tears.

This only made Lucius hit harder.

THWAP

'IGNORANCE'

THWAP

'IS NO'

THWAP

'_**EXCUSE**_!'

Draco slumped to the floor, howling and shaking violently as his broken hands lay limp.

His father had regarded him for a few moments before placing the tip of his cane under his chin, forcing his tear streaked face to look up at him.

'Draco' he spoke softly, silently ordering his tears to stop.

His tears continued.

'_Draco_' he said again, this repeated utterance carrying the unmistakable underlying of a threat.

He stopped his tears and convulsions as best he could, desperately try to block out the incredible pain emanating from his hands.

'You know I don't enjoy doing this Draco, but you must be ready. You have so much to learn and so little time to learn it.'

He dropped down to one knee and stared into Draco's grey eyes, eyes which would only turn darker as the years progressed.

'You will do fantastic things' his father continued, his voice full of pride. 'Not even the name Harry Potter will reach as far as yours will. The Dark Lord will return Draco, and alongside him you will carve the Malfoy name into the very stars above us.'

He rose back to his feet, patting his son's head affectionately the way you would a dog.

'Now go get the house elf to fix your hands' he ordered. 'We are lighting your cake in twenty minutes so I want you dressed and at the dinner table in ten.'

Draco had stumbled out of the room silently in search of the house elf.

'Thank you Dobby' he had whispered when the worried looking elf had tended to his broken bones.

His father had seen. Thanking a house elf would be his second crime of the day.

His hands were swiftly broken again.

That was all he received from his father on his 9th birthday.

_A/N I always felt that the character of Draco was kind of forgotten by JK Rowling by the end of the series and that there was so much more potential to his character that was never realized. _

_This fic kind of came about as I thought about a Draco who hadn't really made a stand either way. He never fully gave himself to the dark side but when the final battle arrived he also wasn't brave enough to join Harry. I just felt like writing something post book seven with Draco alone thinking about the reasons behind his actions throughout the seven books._

_I might just leave this here but if you people enjoy this little snippet I could go into more memories from the mind of Malfoy. I'm quite keen to explore his relationship with his father more as well as his hidden feelings towards Harry, Ron and Hermione. I always thought his particular dislike for Hermione could be down to a small attraction towards her he loathed himself for having as it conflicted with everything he had been raised to think._

_Anyways, as always reviews are greatly appreciated – good or bad._


End file.
